Rockville, Indiana, Dec. 4th, 1876. 174
A friend has sent me the Texas Presbyterian of November 17th, containing Dr. [James Weston] Miller's Historical Discourse before the Synod at Dallas. 175 I was glad to read it. It reminded me of old times. I would like to correct some dates, and supplement some other things. Hugh Wilson and I went [to Texas] about the same time, in the spring of 1838—Wilson to St. Augustine, I to Houston, in March. [John] McCullough arrived in November, six months after I did. I served as Chaplain to Congress, which met soon after my arrival. I had the place of W. W. Hall, who had returned to Kentucky. McCullough and I served as Chaplains to Congress which met in November, 1838. In the spring of 1839, I organized the Church in Houston, with ten members. In Oct., 1839, I organized a Presbyterian church in Austin, with six members, and administered the communion, six months before Dr. [Daniel] Baker arrived in Texas, and reported it to Presbytery at its first meeting. The Indian troubles drove the Government from Austin to Washington. Of course, the little Church was scattered, and Dr. Baker reorganized it after the troubles passed away. After Presbytery adjourned, Dr. Baker and I spent two weeks in the neighborhood, preaching at Independence, Washington, Chriesman's, and as far west as Fuller's. 176 We had a glorious time. Twenty-five or thirty conversions. Then, Baker and I went down to Columbia and Brazoria. The following autumn, I organized the Columbia Church with fifteen members. McCullough organized the Church at Galveston, shortly before the meeting of Presbytery, in April, 1840. The original minutes of the Presbytery, I sent, several years since, to the Presbyterian Historical Society of Philadelphia.
The most of the year 1841, I spent in Kentucky, begging money to pay the debt on the Houston church building, which was occupied by my worthy successor, Dr. Miller, not long after I had dedicated it.
I had been in Texas six months before Fullenwider went there with his family. In Sept., 1838, I met him in the streets of Natchez, on his way to Texas on horseback.
In 1842, I left Texas, a victim of chills and fever. The only thing like salary I received while in Texas, was while as Chaplain to Congress. I went there with about six hundred dollars, and left with just enough money to pay my way to Louisville. But I have never regretted what I did and suffered for Texas.
Your types have S. F. Cooke as one of the early ministers. It should be Stephen F. Cocke, an old fellow student of mine in Centre College, forty-six years ago.
Miller speaks of crossing a river on a hog trough and two puncheons, getting to a meeting of Presbytery. McCullough and I crossed the Brazos once, going to Independence to a meeting, on a little raft made of scantlings, that hardly kept us and our saddles and saddlebags above water. We hired a boy to swim our horses over.
Rockville, Ind., Feb. 13th, 1878. 177
Messrs. Editors: Some one has recently sent me several numbers of this paper [The Texas Presbyterian]. In these, I notice with much interest the “Minutes of the Brazos Presbytery.” It seems that I am the only survivor of that little company that met in “Chriesman's School House”—Wilson, McCullough, Allen and McCorkle, 178, “we four and no more.” The sermon, the prayers, the basis, the resolutions—how well I remember them! The sainted Baker joined us, as a corresponding member, on Monday. Our business was not tedious. This gave us more time for preaching. Brother McCullough left us soon after adjournment. Brother Baker and I remained for three weeks, preaching every day, extending our labors from Fuller's to Washington; sometimes together, and then apart; a blessed time, and some thirty professed conversions during the meetings. Then, Brother Baker and I went from Independence to Columbia, spending a week in Brazoria County. Then, the Bells, the McCormicks, the Hills, the Pattons, and others were gathered into a Church, during that year. There, I baptised a grandmother, her daughter and her grandchild, on the same occasion. During that meeting, a man came, bringing his daughter fifteen miles. The daughter had never heard a sermon before.
My visit to Austin, in Oct., 1839, where I found a town very much in the woods, with five or six hundred people, in cabins and shanties and camps, I well remember. We gathered a little company in the largest room in the place, in Bullock's hotel, where I preached in the morning; and, in the afternoon, I organized that little Church of six members—two or them elders; and administered the communion to twelve or fifteen persons of different churches. We could not have an evening service because Gen. Burleson, with about seventy soldiers, came in about dark and occupied our room. Then, the yellow fever was raging in Houston and Galveston. It broke out in Houston just after I had left for Austin. We had organized the Church in Houston the previous March, with ten members, one elder. The Sabbath School, we had started in May, 1838, soon after my arrival,, with twenty-six pupils.
On no part of my past ministry, do I look back with more pleasure, than “my four years work for Texas.” Three Churches organized, and the house of worship in Houston built and dedicated, constituted my last work there.
I preached the second sermon ever heard on Galveston Island, now nearly forty years ago.
The Whartons. 179—In July, 1838, I took a horseback ride from Velasco to Houston. In company with a young man, an acquaintance of the Whartons, I spent a night at the beautiful residence of Col. Wm. H. Wharton, making a very pleasant acquaintance with Mrs. W. The Col. was not at home. Their son, John, was then a little boy. That visit has been a pleasant remembrance ever since. The following Oct., the whole family removed to Houston to spend the winter, Col. Wm. H. Wharton being a member of the Senate, and his brother John, a member of the Lower House. I was a frequent visitor at their house. Very soon after the meeting of Congress, Col. John A. Wharton was attacked with his last sickness. I was Chaplain of the Lower House. The attack of fever was severe. I was sent for to visit the sick brother. He requested me to write a report for him on Education, he being Chairman of that committee, and not able to do it himself. I had a few words with him on the subject of religion. I was requested to repeat my visit, which I did, when he requested me to pray for him, and to instruct him as to the way of life, saying he had been brought to think of the great subject as he had never done before. I was not allowed by his physicians to see him again. He soon afterwards died. He had been intensely sceptical. After his death, I learned that his mother had been a devotedly pious woman.
Wm. H. Wharton, who died the following summer, though professedly sceptical, was a scholarly gentleman, and made a beautiful speech in favor of the circulation of the Bible, at the organization of the Houston Bible Society. And now they are all gone. The last time I saw Mrs. W. and John, was at the house of her brother, Leonard Gross [Groce]. I have pleasant remembrance of the hospitality of the Whartons and the Groces.
Mar. 29th, 1878.
Dr. Levi Jones. 180—Just forty years ago this week, I landed in Galveston. Soon after casting anchor, Dr. Jones came aboard the schooner in which I had sailed from New Orleans. He was the first man that I met in Texas, that I had ever seen [before]. I knew him as a medical student in my boyhood. After entering his profession, he married a young widow, Mrs. Wardlaw, a member of the Church in Shelbyville, Ky., the Church in which I was brought up. They soon went to Anderson, Ky., where they resided many years. After I had been in Texas some time, the Dr. brought his family, his wife, and two daughters to Galveston. I was a frequent visitor at their house in Galveston, and have pleasant and grateful remembrances of their kind hospitality. I met a grand-daughter of the Doctor's, a Miss Delano, of Henderson, lately while she was on a visit to Terre Haute. And now the Doctor has left his place among the living, following his wife and one of their daughters.
I notice that Temperance is receiving much attention among your people. I think I made the first temperance speech ever made on Galveston Island. It was made in a room in the old Clermont Hotel. The work bench was pushed to one side, the shavings pushed back, and seats extemporized, and the subject discussed for the first time in the young city. That was in 1839.
More than one thousand have put on the blue ribbon in Rockville, within a few weeks, seven thousand or eight thousand have done the same thing in Terre Haute. Many, in both places, among the very hardest cases. So much for Murphy! My first sermon in Galveston was preached in a cabin belonging to the old Texas Navy Yard. A second service, that day, was prevented by the arrival and salute of General Memucan Hunt, Secretary of the Navy, from the States. The salute called away everybody's attention. Davis was keeper of the Navy Yard; and Commodore Moore was Commandant. The Old Potomac was the only war vessel of the Texas Navy, at that time. I preached once on her deck.
Rockville, Ind., April 9th, 1878.
The Bells of West Columbia. 181—My first acquaintance with this pioneer family was on the occasion of the marriage of Mrs. Bell's daughter to Dr. J. Wilson Copes, about forty years ago. Mrs. Bell had been brought up a Presbyterian, in North Carolina, married at the age of fifteen, and had not made a profession of religion at that time. She and her husband soon removed to Hopkinsville, Ky., thence to Red River, La., and thence, about 1820, they crossed over into Texas, with 6 and ¼ cents in money and two servants, a man and wife. They gradually worked their way down to the lower Brazos, and finally settled near Columbia, where I first met the family. The husband had died shortly before my first visit. They had become comparatively wealthy, and were widely known, and greatly respected for their hospitality to strangers and especially to any that were sick or suffering.
Mrs. B. had no doubt of her religious experience, years before I met with her, but had no access to a Presbyterian Church, and she would unite with no other, until I organized the Columbia Church in 1840. On my second visit to the neighborhood and before the Church was organized, I received her on profession of her faith, into the Church Militant, and baptised her youngest child and a little girl whom she had adopted. They were the first baptisms I ever performed. Her own child, a little daughter, died soon after. I had the privilege afterward of baptising her oldest daughter and her elder son, Thaddeus, on their own profession of faith in Christ, at the time of the organization of the Church, and, also, the brother-in-law of Mrs. B., Mr. McCormick, and all of his five or six children. Mrs. McCormick had united with the Church in North Carolina, before she came to Texas. I look back on no part of my forty-two years ministry with more pleasure, than that among the Bells and Pattons and McCormicks of West Columbia. It was interesting to hear Mrs. Bell tell of her early trials, self-denials during her early years in Texas—how, for weeks, they were without bread, living upon deer meat, and upon tea, sweetened with honey, and nursing a child at the same time.
I have heard nothing of the Bells, except the Judge, for a long time, but I do remember them and their kindness still.
The First Temperance Meeting in Houston. 182—I have spoken of my first Temperance effort in Galveston. In Houston, my first effort was brought about in this wise. In the spring of 1839, Dr. John Breckinridge was on a visit to Houston. He had preached on a Sabbath with great acceptance, to a crowded audience, in the Senate Chamber of the Capitol. The next day, as I was passing along the street near the Capitol, I heard my name called. Looking across the street, I saw General Houston and Dr. Levi Jones sitting together on a piece of building timber. The General called to me to come over. When I came to them the General said “Allen, I want you to have a Temperance meeting called for tomorrow (Tuesday) evening, that Dr. Breckinridge may make us a Temperance speech; and I want to make one myself.” This surprised me, for at that time the General was anything but a temperance man. However, I bestirred myself, and, with the effort of others, we had a large crowd. It was arranged for the General to speak first, and he made a grand speech in which he enlarged upon his own experience—told the people “to do as he advised, not as he had done.” But when he got agoing it was hard for him to quit. He held on so long that Dr. Breckinridge had to postpone his address until the next evening. After General Houston's speech, a constitution and papers for the signers of the pledge, having been previously prepared, while some preliminary matters were going on, the General left the Hall so that he escaped the embarrassment of refusing to sign the pledge, in accordance with his own advice. Nevertheless there were a goodly number of signers that evening, and the next, after the very able address of Dr. Breckinridge. So much for the beginning of the Temperance work in Houston if not in all Texas.
The First Bible Society.—The First Bible Society of Houston was organized during the winter previous, in Jan., 1839, while Congress was in session. An agent of the A. B. S. had come. His name was Hoes. Had brought a number of Bibles with him. I worked for him for several days and we had a large crowd. There were several good speeches, one especially notable by Col. Wm. Wharton, then a Senator. I am glad to see the cause still lives and grows in that wide field. And though I may not say “magna pars fui,” yet I am glad I had any part in the first movements of the Bible and Temperance work in Texas.
Rockville, Ind., May 7th, 1878.
Alone All Night on the Prairie. 183—Major Whiting had invited me to come over to his place on the Trinity, to marry his step daughter, supposed to be the richest young woman in the Republic of Texas. It was in April, 1839. I landed from steamer at Lynchburg and hired a man to take me in a skiff to Judge Burnett's, who was then living at the head of Galveston bay. The Judge loaned me a horse, after spending the night with him, to ride over to the Major's. The marriage took place at 12 m. From the reputation of the wealth of the bride, I thought it likely the house would be full of company, and that room might be scarce, so I halted in a grove, made my toilet, and rode up to the mansion, on the border of a beautiful lake, when lo! there was no company there. But they proposed, if I would stay until noon, next day, they would send around and have something of a wedding. I consented, but concluded to cross the Trinity and spend a part of the afternoon in Liberty. A considerable crowd was gathered the next day. The couple were married, and I returned to Judge Burnett's for the night. The Judge sent me round to Lynchburg in his boat. The steamers were all up the bayou, and the chances were that I would have to stay at Lynchburg for three or four days for a boat. The prospect was not flattering, for at that early day, heat and dust and fleas were said to abound there. So I concluded to try it afoot, at least as far as Harrisburg. I was set over the San Jacinto bay near the famous battle ground which had often been pointed out and the battle described, from the decks of steamers as they passed, by those who had been in the battle. I met Frank Lubbock on the bank of Buffalo bayou, got a lunch and was off again. Before reaching Harrisburg, I took a cattle path instead of keeping the road, bore off southwest, changed my course about sunset, crossed Green's bayou on a fallen tree, and soon struck out of the timber into the prairie which seemed to stretch on indefinitely. After dark, I lay down on the wet grass, but soon found that I was getting cold and stiff. I got up and walkd on until 2 o'clock a. m., then struck timber, sat down by the root of a tree, went to sleep, and, after daylight, soon found myself in a road, discovered where I was, about four miles west of Houston, and walked on to town. It was Sabbath morning. I rested awhile, went and got some strong coffee, then went to the old Senate chamber and preached, and also at night, and in a week was shaking with chills and fever. But I had got an idea of solitude on that prairie such as I had never had before.
Two Nights and a Day with a Pirate. 184—Recent notices of LaFitte, the pirate, have brought to mind one of my Texas adventures. In the fall of 1840, I left Galveston City, on horseback, for a visit and preaching tour on the Brazos. The forenoon was pleasant, but soon after noon it began to rain, and then to blow from the north. Riding down the island on the gulf shore, the last house then was twelve miles from the lower end of the island, except a shanty at the end of the island next to the pass, which I had expected to cross, and spend the night at San Louis, on which some Galveston men were starting a town. But the norther had raised such a commotion in the pass that there was no crossing that night. The shanty was occupied by an old man whose name I cannot recall, and who was said to have been one of LaFitte's pirates. I rode up to his shanty, cold, wet, and hungry. Asked him for shelter. He said he had nothing to eat but beans—no bread, no meat, no flour, no coffee, no oysters to be had on account of the storm. The prospect was not flattering for a night of comfort, but it was decidedly unpromising outside. The old man said I might stay; so, tying my horse (or rather Col. Love's horse) on the grass, I sought the shelter of the shanty. In that shanty there was smoke and dirt, a dog and cat, a little fire, a great pile of ashes on the hearth, and the old pirate. A pot of beans had been simmering over the fire all day. After warming and drying awhile, the old man handed me an old plate and spoon, and asked me if I would have some beans. I said yes, thank you. He furnished a little salt, and this was the whole meal, and it was not bad to take after my twenty-five miles ride and the fierce norther of the afternoon. Then, the dirty bunk! the only alternative to the dirty floor! Fortunately, I had a Mackinaw blanket, in which, like Sancho's sleep, I wrapped myself all over and avoided contact with the filthy bunk. Next morning, it was beans for breakfast and beans in the afternoon, with some fishy birds he had shot and skinned and stewed; and, then, another night ,and beans again for breakfast, and then a silver dollar to pay for my entertainment, and, then, I got away.
Rockville, Ind., July 2nd, 1878.
The Church in Houston. 185—I commenced my ministry in Houston, in March, 1838. There was then no church organization in the place, although they counted the population at two thousand. Congress met in April, in adjourned session. Rev. W. W. Hall, the Chaplain of the Senate, had left the Republic and returned to Kentucky. I was chosen in his place. Rev. Littleton Fowler, Chaplain of the Lower House, was in attendance, but was sick most of the time, so that I had to do most of the praying for both Houses, and nearly all of the preaching. After Congress adjourned in May, Mr. Fowler returned to the Red Lands, and I was the only minister within a hundred miles of the coast, until November following. Then, I was Chaplain again to the Lower House, and Rev. John McCullough, in the Senate, of the Second [Third] Congress. After Congress adjourned, in the spring of 1839, Mr. McCullough went to Galveston, and I remained in Houston. After laboring about a year in Houston, I organized the Presbyterian church of Houston, consisting of ten members. James Burke was chosen ruling elder and installed. He had been an elder in Mississippi. We had a communion, in which about fifteen persons participated—one or two Baptists, one or two Methodists and at least one Episcopalian, Mrs. Fairfax Gray, an excellent Christian woman. To me, it was a most interesting occasion. It was the first communion I ever conducted. It was a “day of small things” for the Church in Houston. It was the third Presbyterian church organized in the Republic. The little band soon set about the building of a house of worship. The work went on until January, 1841, when, to secure aid to finish the building, I went to Kentucky, and during the following spring and summer I raised about six hundred dollars, which enabled the brethren to complete the house, which I dedicated the following winter, the last of my four years work in Texas. During which time, I had spent about $500.00 which I had taken with me. I had no salary except as Chaplain to Congress. When I left to beg money for the church, I had just enough money to take me to Kentucky. Now I understand that the First Church in Houston has two hundred and twenty members, and that a Second church has been organized.
The Presbyterian Church in Austin. 186—In October, 1839, just as the yellow fever was breaking out in Houston, I set off on a visit to Austin, a town about four months old. I had sent on an appointment some time before. I bought an Indian pony and took in a campmeeting, at Rutersville, on the way. The campmeeting was in brother Alexander's field. He was a good preacher and an excellent man. He was aided by an old brother Haynie, a Doctor of Medicine, as well as preacher. He reminded me of Dr. Gideon Blackburn in his personal appearance. Also, a brother Clark, from Tennessee, was present. I spent Saturday and Sabbath and part of Monday with the brethren, preaching once at the camp, and at LaGrange on Sabbath evening. Spent a night at Bastrop, preaching there, thence, in company with James Burke, to Austin, arriving there Saturday about 10 o'clock a. m. A company was just gathering to go out to Brushy creek to bury the bodies of the men killed a few days before by the Indians. They were of the Webster party, whom the Indians had killed. I saw Mrs. Webster and her little girl a year after she had made her escape from the savages. Truly her's was a tale of hardship.
On Sabbath, I preached in a large room of Bullock's hotel. In the afternoon, we had another meeting, when we organized the First Church in Austin. There were six members. Mr. Bullock and James Burke, who had come to stay, were chosen ruling elders. They had both been elders before. We then had the communion, in which perhaps a dozen took part. It was truly a small beginning, and fell into a syncope afterwards, when the government and many citizens abandoned the Capital, alarmed by the Indians, and ran off to Washington. Dr. Daniel Baker gave the cause a new start. In his Biography, he speaks, or his son does for him, as if there had been no organization previously. But I have given the true history of the planting of the Presbyterian church in Austin.
The communion, that afternoon, in that large unfurnished room of the Bullock house, was something that had never been witnessed so far southwest by Protestants, on the American continent. This was reaching out to the “regions beyond.” That was the second communion at which I presided. And that was the fourth Presbyterian church in the Republic. Rev. Hugh Wilson had organized one near San Augustine, the first in the Republic, and one at Independence, the second; the Church of Houston, the third; and the one at Austin, the fourth. Galveston church was organized soon after. The Presbyterians were the first to set up their banners in those three principal centers. After the communion at Austin, Brother Clark, who had come on from Rutersville, and I walked up on Capitol Hill, and looked over the young city of perhaps six hundred inhabitants—after viewing and talking awhile, Bro. Clark said “Let us kneel down right here and pray for Texas.” We kneeled, and I led in that prayer. We were in a little clump of bushes. Eighteen years after that prayer, i. e., in 1857, I was in Austin again, and the Capitol was standing on the very spot where Brother Clark and I had prayed in October, 1839. We could not have a third service on that Sabbath day, because General Burleson came in about dark, with some seventy soldiers, going after Indians, and they occupied the large room in the hotel. I slept that night with the soldiers on the floor of that room. The yellow fever had made dreadful work in Houston and Galveston, while I was on that visit to Austin.
Rockville, Ind., Aug. 7th, 1878.
The Houston Presbyterian Sabbath School. 187—Some friend recently sent me a pamphlet, containing an account of the present condition of the Presbyterian Sabbath School of some thirty teachers and six hundred pupils on the roll. I had the honor of organizing that school in May, 1838, more than forty years ago. At that time, there was no other Sabbath School in the Republic. There was a tradition that Judge David G. Burnet had started a Sabbath School some years previous, but it had died out, probably during the revolution, and while the Judge was provisional President. The school in Houston was begun with twenty-six pupils and three or four teachers—James Baily and a Bro. Robinson were two of them. The names of the others I have forgotten. We were poorly supplied with books; testaments and readers and primers were the only books. It was a day of small things for the Sabbath school work in Houston. But it lived and grew; and, nineteen years afterwards, in 1857, on my last visit to Texas, I found six Sabbath schools, some of them large schools, in operation in Houston. It was my privilege to look in upon our school, after the nineteenth anniversary, and speak to them of their small beginning, and bear witness to the success of the enterprise. Brother Baily had worked with it and for it during all those years; and of all the original teachers he was the only one left, and was working in it still. On that visit, I had the pleasure of meeting with the Methodist Sabbath School at a May-day picnic, in the country.
Soon after my arrival in Houston, in March, 1838, A. C. Allen made me a present of a town lot, near where the jail was standing twenty years ago. I had a small room built upon it, where I studied, and slept on a sack of prairie hay. Several months, in 1839, I shared my room and bed with Mr. Chapman, the Episcopal Deacon, who was the first Episcopal preacher of Houston. He had the Grays and the Bees and the Rileys as his followers, while I had the Burkes and Bailys and Coans and Robinsons. Having no salary, I boarded around considerably, as the ancient schoolmasters used to do. Five months at half price with Woodruff; a good deal of my time gratis, at A. C. Allen's, at Baily's, at Millett's, etc. Frequently off on excursions to Galveston, to Velasco, to Quintana, to Brazoria, to Columbia, to Richmond, to Independence, etc., spreading my work, but making Houston my headquarters. How I would like to see all these places again, and note the difference between now and then! If some Texas railroad king would send me a free pass I would be tempted to take a run to the Lone Star State, and do some preaching there again. I was at the first railroad meeting ever held in Texas, and opened the meeting with prayer. Moseley Baker made the speech and dug a hole, and the Masons planted a post, as a beginning of a railroad; that was in 1840. 188
My First Marriage Ceremony in Texas. 189—Col. Hockley introduced me to Col. R., who said he wished to see me at Col. W.'s, in the course of an hour, to perform a nuptial ceremony. Of course, I was prompt at the hour, 12 m. The bride was Mrs. D., a young widow. The groom, a large portly looking and rather venerable man. The witnesses were Col. W., his wife, Col. Hockley, and one or two others. It was a very quiet affair, though the City of Houston was full of people, it being the first day of the adjourned session of the First [Second] Congress, in April, 1838. The married couple took their departure for Galveston by steamer within an hour. Nothing was said of wedding fee, and I had concluded that the service was altogether gratuitous. After the adjournment of Congress, during which I had acted as Chaplain to the Senate, I visited Galveston for a few days, stopping with the family of Dr. Lewis [sic] Jones. Coming in one afternoon, Mrs. J. handed me a package, which had been left for me by Col. R. and his wife. The package contained six linen shirts! And though nothing had been said by way of explanation either to the family or myself, I accepted the gift as the wedding fee—my first in “The Lone Star Republic.”
Another Matrimonial Reminiscence.—Mr. H., a young lawyer of Richmond, a Kentuckian, engaged me to meet him at the house of Mrs. C., near Velasco, eighty miles from Houston. The time was August. I made Capt. Bingham's, twenty-five miles the first day, on Clark Owen's mustang. At Bingham's, I met some of the wedding guests from Richmond. We started at 2 a. m., next morning,and made twenty-five miles for breakfast. The ride was pleasant enough until sunrise, when the musquitoes rose upon us from the wet prairie in immense swarms, and made it lively for us until nine o'clock. The heat then settled them for the rest of the day until sundown. When we arrived at Mrs. C.'s, they were smoking chips and green weeds all around the house, to keep off the tormentors, the only drawback to a pleasant marriage scene. Such were some of my experiences of forty years ago, now pleasant to recall.
Allen's Ordination. 190—A Presbytery and campmeeting were held at Valley Creek church, a few miles from Selma, Ala., in Nov., 1838, just forty years ago. Junius B. King and I had passed our final examinations for ordination; King to be pastor of the Valley Creek church, and I to go to the “regions beyond” as an evangelist to Texas, where I had spent the previous six months. Jetur had preached the sermon under a large shed used for meetings when too large for the church. King and I had knelt, while the “hands of the Presbytery” were laid upon us and the ordaining prayer was offered, Nall and Witherspoon and Martin and Hamilton and Frazer and Holman taking part.
Then, we stood up, while Nall gave us solemn charge, King as pastor of the flock among whom we were meeting, and me as evangelist to Texas. To me he used these words, standing tall and erect and pointing his long forefinger, giving emphasis to his words: “Now, brother Allen, we have ordained you as an evangelist, to go and preach the gospel in the Republic of Texas. Now, Bro. Allen, never let the word come back to us that Bro. Allen has turned speculator.”
I have thought of those words many a time since that solemn occasion and, though often tempted, I never turned speculator. I was reminded of the charge, by seeing Bro. Nall's name in a recent Texas Presbyterian. He and I had been fellow students for a year in Centre College. During that year, he had formed the acquaintance of the young woman who afterwards became his wife. She was then in school in Danville. Apropos of North Carolina, where Nall was at last mention, Mrs. Bell of West Columbia, who was brought up under the ministry of an eminent preacher, Dr. Hall of N. C., told me that Dr. Hall was troubled with fits of melancholy. Sometimes, he thought he had no religion, would neither preach nor pray, but would attend all the prayer meetings in the church kept up by the Session; and, one Sabbath day, an earnest old Scotch Irish elder was praying and said with great earnestness: “O Lord, cast out the dumb devil from our dear pastor, that he may open his mouth as heretofore and preach the gospel to us,” and immediately the Doctor sprang to his feet and began to exhort. The dumb devil was cast out. Are there not many who are possessed with dumb devils, who ought to pray and preach?
Rockville, Ind., Dec. 4th, 1878.
First Written History of the Republic of Texas. 191—In 1839, while the Second [Third] Congress of Texas was in session in Houston, the Rev. A. Lawrence, editor of the New Orleans Presbyterian, and a gentleman named Stille, a publisher of Philadelphia, came to Houston. They wished to get up a history of the Republic. They asked for the use of my room, a shanty on the edge of the town, for three or four days. Lawrence put into writing what meagre information each of them had picked up by inquiries among the people, as they happened to meet them. And, lo! a history of Texas! the result of four days writing, and the authors were off, Lawrence to his tripod in New Orleans, and Stille to publish the little work in Philadelphia. I do not think I ever saw it after it left my room in manuscript. 192 Of course, it was too soon to write a history of Texas, while Houston and Lamar and the Whartons and Rusk and Kauffman and most of the actors in the revolution that made Texas free were still active in the affairs of the new Republic.
The College.—About the time the above mentioned history was written, Col. Wm. H. Wharton, then a Senator in Congress, spoke to me about the establishment of a University in Texas, and paid me the compliment of proposing that I should be put at the head of it. This was as near as I ever came to being a President of a University! In 1840, the Rev. W. L. McCalla set Galveston all astir on the subject of starting a great University in the Island City. It was at the time of Dr. Baker's first visit to Texas, and to him, in after years, Austin College owed more than to any other man. May the College take and hold root in its new location, and send out a healthful influence all over the State.
Rockville, Ind., Dec. 17th, 1878.
Dr. Daniel Baker. 193—I met this eminent minister and friend of Texas, while I was connected with Centre College, before he settled as pastor of the Frankfort church. He came to Danville during the session of the Synod of Kentucky and preached several times during the Synod. His grand sermon, on “The Mediatorial Glory of the Lord Jesus Christ,” made an impression not readily forgotten. It was one of a few sermons preached by him a great many times. He preached it many times after it was printed. Several of his sermons, which were published under the title of “Revival Sermons,” I heard half a dozen times in different places, as in Danville and Shelbyville, Ky., in Mobile, also in New Orleans, and in Houston, Independence, and Columbia, Texas. I remember having heard him say he had five hundred sermons prepared with as much care as those which he preached so often. These, he must have prepared during his various pastorates. He was too hard a worker to have made new sermons while doing evangelistic work. His short talks at prayer meetings and his anecdotes were all written and memorized with great care. I have never met with any man who could deliver a sermon for the hundredth time, with all the freshness and unction of a first delivery. The last time I met him was as a delegate to the General Assembly at St. Louis, in 1851.
Rockville, Ind., Jan. 27th, 1879.
Frazier. 194—His name was Frazer, [Frazier] a Cumberland Presbyterian minister. He was from the “Red Lands,” had just been elected Chaplain to the Lower House [Senate] of the Second [Third] Congress of the Republic, when he was stricken with a mortal disease. He lingered but a short time. I had been with him most of the time of his sickness. Had performed his duties as a Chaplain. And now had come the last hours of his sufferings, and they were terrible sufferings. It was now midnight, and he was not to see the day dawn again on earth. I had talked and prayed with him, and was now standing, silently looking for the last struggle. Beside me stood a Houston merchant, one of the profanest and and most ungodly men of the city. We were alone, watching with the dying man. The heart of the wicked man all at once seemed to be touched with a gleam of natural benevolence, and, leaning over the dying man, he exhorted him to “trust in Jesus.” He had heard that Jesus was a friend that could help, when all human helpers had failed. Physicians could do nothing more. We who stood by could do nothing but sympathize, and the wicked man said “Trust in Jesus,” though he had never trusted in Him himself. “Let him that heareth say come.”
While at breakfast at Woodruff's one morning, a messenger came in haste, saying that a woman, not far from the old Capitol, wanted to see me, supposing that she was dying. When I got to her bedside, she thought that she was better, and her alarm was gone. She seemed to take but little interest either in my conversation or prayers. I left her and before the day closed she was dead.
Another sad case: After a hard ride on horseback, through rain and mud from Velasco, tired and travel soiled and hungry, I alighted at the hotel in Brazoria. I was recognized by some one passing by. Presently, a messenger came, saying a woman near by was dying, and wished to see me as soon as possible. I went immediately, and found her in intense agony from internal cancer, which had already siezed upon the vitals. She was a wife and a mother. Her first words were: “Oh, I am dying, and I am not prepared, and my agony is such that I cannot think. My parents were professed Christians, but they never warned me to prepare for death, and now, I can't prepare.” I prayed with her then, and next morning left for Columbia. Came back after a week. She was dead, having no ground for hope for the future.
Rockville, Ind., Feb. 14th, 1879. 195
Rev. Mr. Hutchison [Rev. Francis Rutherford]. 196—The first member received into the Brazos Presbytery, after its organization, in May, 1840, was the Rev. Mr. Hutchison. It was our fall meeting, in Nov. 1840. Brothers Wilson and McCullough, Elder McFarland and myself, the four original members, had met according to adjournment, in the neighborhood of Independence, where Brothers Wilson and McFarland lived. Soon after my arrival at Brother Wilson's, word came from Hoxie's, in the neighborhood, that Brother Hutchison was there, and had just been attacked with lockjaw.
I had met him at Quintana, the previous summer, had heard him preach once at a school house in Quintana, his wife died during the fall. They were recently from Mississippi. Shortly before the Presbytery was to meet, he had taken an excursion out to the region of Goliad. At the house of a man named Alexander, he had trodden on a rusty shingle nail, which pierced the thin sole of the shoe and also pierced his foot not far from the toes. Neglecting the wound, he had ridden fifty miles to his home on the lower Brazos, and then started immediately on the ride of a hundred miles to meet us in Presbytery, with the design of becoming a member. He stopped at Hoxie's, and died at Tetanus, in three or four days. I attended the meetings of the Presbytery, during the day, at Chriesman's school-house, and watched with Hutchison at night. At his earnest request we enrolled his name as a member, though he never met with us. The night after Presbytery adjourned, he died. Only his physician and myself were present when he died. We buried him in the Independence cemetery, while his wife slept on the banks of the Brazos. That was the last meeting of the Brazos Presbytery that I attended.
I think Rev. W. C. Blair's name was enrolled as a member at that second meeting, though he was not present. I alone am left of the original members of the mother Presbytery. Now, they have become five bands.
Texas Newspapers. 197—When I arrived in Houston, in March, 1838, there was but one newspaper in the Republic. 198 That one was the Houston Telegraph, managed by Cruger and Moore; the latter, principal editor. It was a very respectable paper both as to size and matter and altogether creditable to the owners and managers as well as to the young Republic.
During the summer of 1838, [Hamilton] Stewart, from Scott County, Kentucky, who came to Texas shortly after I did, and was a fellow boarder at Woodruff's for a time, went to Galveston, after the close of the first [second] Congress, and started the Galveston Civilian. It was quite a small paper at first, as was Galveston itself at that time. But forty years have made a difference in the appearance of the Island.
There were McKinney and Williams and Levi Jones and Gail Borden and Col [James] Love and Moseley Baker, who were not likely to let things lie still. McKinney and Williams were re-building their warehouse, which had been smashed by a vagrant schooner the previous autumn. Gail Borden was running the Custom House, while Jones and Love were speculators. Fifty dollars would then have bought many a desirable lot in the Island City.
The San Louis Advocate.—Some Galveston speculators determined to have a town on the little island in the pass between the lower end of Galveston Island and the main land. They called the new town San Louis, and, early in 1840, Tod Robison started the San Louis Advocate. It was intended to help make the town. Tod engaged me as correspondent, at the rate of five dollars per column, small wages in Texas money at that time. I wrote for the paper until I had earned fifty dollars, and then called on Tod for my pay, but got not a red, not even a promissory note. 199 If San Louis still lives and flourishes, it ought to pay that fifty dollars.
During the first session of the Second Congress, James Burke issued a very small daily. It was about a duodecimo, and was printed by Whiting, who was then public printer. These were the pioneer newspapers of the Republic.
Rockville, Ind., Feb. 28th 1879.
Education in the Republic. 200—I notice some stirring writing, in the Texas Presbyterian of this week, on the subject of Education. I am sorry to hear the charge of indifference to the subject by so large a portion of the population. Let me give a reminiscence on the subject.
In Nov., 1838, the Second [Third] Congress of the Republic met in Houston. In the appointment of the House Committees, Col. John Wharton was first on the Committee of Education. A few days after Congress met, he was laid upon a sick bed. His disease proved fatal in a few days. I was then Chaplain of the House, and, at his request, visited him several times during the earlier stage of his sickness. During one of those visits, he requested me to write a Report for the Committee on Education, of which he was the Chairman. In compliance with his request, I wrote an extended Report, urging the importance of the early attention of Congress to make timely and ample provision for education, as the only safe ground of hope for the permanent prosperity of the Republic, and to foster such measures as would raise the vocation of the teacher to respectability and honor. After Col. Wharton's death, I handed the Report to the next member of the Committee, supposing that, of course, he would be the chairman. But the member who was appointed in Col. Wharton's place claimed the Chairmanship, took the paper that I had prepared, wrote a page or two by way of introduction, and had it and my paper read as being all his own, without a word of explanation. He was from the Red Lands, I have forgotten his name. 201 I suppose the Report is still in the archives of the Republic, in my hand writing. 202 If the Wharton brothers had lived, I think the cause of education would not have slumbered so long.
P. S. In a former reminiscence, I made mention of Wm. H. Wharton's proposal, during that Second [Third] Congress, to take measures for the founding of a University for the Republic. And now, after forty years, the fifty or sixty students of Austin College is rather a poor showing for a population of two million. Austin College has changed its place. Rutersville, the senior, changed its character, and of Baylor, I am not advised.
Rockville, Ind., Mar. 4th, 1879.
How I Traveled in Texas Forty Years Ago. 203—From New Orleans, I went over the Gulf in an old schooner, the “Johannes,” started at 9 p. m. A dense fog stopped us opposite the “Battle ground.” Next morning, took a “tug” and went to the mouth of the river. Next morning, Sabbath, went out into the great Gulf. Arrived at Galveston Wednesday noon. Paid thirty dollars. Thursday took passage on steamer, “Friendship”, for Houston; paid fare. Paid no more fares by steamer, all the time I was in Texas, except once from Galveston to New Orleans. Four trips on steamer gratis. Once, went down the coast from Galveston to Velasco, on the little “Correo,” broke a shaft, and had to anchor off the mouth of the Brazos. In the morning, began to drag anchor. Signal of distress brought a little schooner to take us off. One time, I went from Velasco to Galveston in a small schooner with a cargo of two hundred bushels of sweet potatoes.
My first horse back ride in Texas was from Velasco to Houston, in July, 1838, on a pony that Anson Jones had ridden from Houston when he was sent by Sam Houston to Washington. On that trip I got my first and only taste of the “cut throat grape”—did'nt try it any more. That ride in July cost me a spell of fever. To make my journey to Austin, in Oct., 1839, I bought an Indian pony for $100.00, “promissory notes”, about fifty dollars par. Got the pony badly hurt at Gross's [Groce's] as I came home, and sold it for $40.00 promissory notes. On that trip I preached at Rutersville campmeeting, at LaGrange, at Bastrop, and at Austin, organizing the church in Austin, and at Gross's [Groce's] and at Dr. Davis's across the river on my way back. It was then, the yellow fever was raging at Galveston and Houston. My next horse speculation was in the fall of 1840. I started on a foundered horse, belonging to Independence, and, after going several miles, instead of getting better he got worse. So I left Bro. McCullough to go on by himself, and I went back to Houston, bought a mustang pony for $12.00 par, got dinner and started again for Independence, and overtook Bro. McCullough at midnight. After making my journey to Presbytery and back, I sold my mustang for $10.00 par, a better speculation than the other. In those times, it was but little trouble to borrow a horse for a few days. Welshmeyer offered me a very fine horse to make my trip to Presbytery, in May, 1840, and asked me to keep him for a month. I paid a ten dollar gold piece, a wedding fee, for a stage ride from Velasco to Galveston, nearly twenty cents a mile, the highest fare I ever paid. That stage line did not last long.
W. Y. Allen. P. S. I send the above that you junior brethren may see something thing of the variety and difficulties of travel of the seniors. The most imminent perils I encountered were from high waters, twice on the Brazos, once on Green's bayou, once on Oyster Creek, and once getting around a top in the Gulf. But the “hand unseen” preserved me, and I continue unto this day.
174. Texas Presbyterian, I, No. 40. December 22, 1876.
175. The sermon was in commemoration of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the synod of Texas. It is also printed in A Family of Millers and Stewarts, by Robert F. Miller, Pp. 16-18.
176. Longpoint, Washington county.
177. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 2. March 1, 1878.
178. The ruling elder was John McFarland.
179. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 3. March 15, 1878.
180. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 7. April 12, 1878.
181. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 9. April 26, 1878.
182. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 11. May 10, 1878.
183. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 13. May 24, 1878.
184. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 16. June 14, 1878.
185. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 21. July 19, 1878.
186. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 22. July 26, 1878.
187. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 26. August 23, 1878.
188. This was probably the Harrisburg and Brazos Railroad. See The Quarterly, VII, 279-281, and Potts, Railroad Transportation in Texas, 26-27.
189. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 27. August 30, 1878.
190. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 40. November 29, 1878.
191. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 43. December 20, 1878.
192. The book, to whose preparation reference is here made, was published in 1840 under the title: “Texas in 1840; or The Emigrants Guide to the New Republic. By an emigrant, late of the U. S.” It did not pretend to be a history, nor was it the first book about Texas.
193. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 45. January 3, 1879.
194. Texas Presbyterian, III, No. 52. February 14, 1879.
195. Texas Presbyterian, IV, No. 2. February 28, 1879.
196. The Minutes of the Presbytery of Brazos record the death of the Rev. Francis Rutherford under the circumstances here given. No Mr. Hutchison is mentioned. Mr. Allen evidently forgot the name.
197. Texas Presbyterian, IV, No. 3. May 7, 1879.
198. The Matagorda Bulletin was a contemporary of the Telegraph. The issue for March 28, 1838, is number 33 of volume I.—The Editors.
199. A few copies of the Advocate are among the Austin Papers. They contain some articles written in the style of Allen but signed with a nom de plume, Themis.
200. Texas Presbyterian, IV, No. 3. March 7, 1879.
201. Ezekiel W. Cullen.
202. An investigation did not locate the manuscript. The body of the report is in Allen's style.
203. Texas Presbyterian, IV, No. 6. March 28, 1879.
How to cite:
"ALLEN'S REMINISCENCES OF TEXAS, 1838-1842 173 I ", Volume 017, Number 3, Southwestern Historical Quarterly Online, Page 283 - 305. http://www.tsha.utexas.edu/publications/journals/shq/online/v017/n3/article_3.html
[Accessed Sun Nov 23 3:42:34 CST 2008]
